


Regal is an Attitude

by katling



Series: Tony Stark Bingo [23]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Civil War Team Iron Man, Gen, Not Steve Friendly, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Regal is as regal does, T'Challa doesn't leave people behind, moderated for my peace of mind, not team Cap friendly, read the tags people
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-18
Updated: 2019-08-18
Packaged: 2020-09-06 15:54:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20294086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katling/pseuds/katling
Summary: When T'Challa finds out Rogers and Barnes left Tony Stark behind in Siberia, he chooses to be the kind of king who looks out for the people rather than on who only indulges his personal whims.Written for the Tony Stark Bingo 2019 - Square K4: Survival in the Wild





	Regal is an Attitude

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, yes, Siberia isn't exactly in the wild but I think the cold makes it a survival situation if the movies were actually accurate with their injuries.

“You last saw him _where_?” T’Challa asked with a combination of disbelief and growing anger. Whatever his expression was, it was enough to make Captain Rogers take a step backward and Barnes hunch in on himself.

“The bunker in Siberia,” Rogers said with much less in the way of smug self-righteousness as he’d had the first time he said that. When he continued, he sounded very defensive. “He was fine. He was talking.”

T’Challa swallowed down the stinging words that came to mind about adrenaline and its masking effect on injuries and instead turned on his heel and headed for the door.

“You have two options,” he said over his shoulder. “You may remain here, in these rooms and obey every order given to you by the Dora Milaje, or you may leave. You will be given passage to a destination of your choice. You have twenty-four hours to make your decision.”

He didn’t bother waiting for their reply, just nodded to the Dora who was standing by the door. She returned his nod, indicating she understood his intentions. T’Challa then put aside all thought of his unwanted guests and headed towards the hanger.

“What did they do to him?” Okoye asked as she fell into step beside him.

“I didn’t ask,” T’Challa replied. “I doubt I’d have received an honest answer. He left him behind without knowing if he could get out. That is all I need to know.” He shook his head, letting himself wallow in self-recrimination for a moment. “I should have checked.”

Okoye didn’t say anything and he knew if he looked, her expression would be saying all that she thought about that. Wakandans had many complex opinions regarding Tony Stark. They knew his father as a thief, who had used stolen vibranium to create Captain America’s shield, but Tony Stark had continued to defy their attempts to neatly categorise him. It was easy to dismiss him if all you did was look at the surface but when you looked deeper, you realised that Tony Stark was a man who kept his own counsel and wore many, often conflicting masks. 

T’Challa also knew it was the advancements of Tony Stark and those like him that had prompted his father to bring Wakanda out of its isolation. Not out of any misguided idea that they should strike now while they were still in advance of the rest of the world but because the rest of the world had finally caught up enough to allow them to feel relatively safe from invaders wanting to steal what was theirs. 

“He is very resourceful,” Okoye finally said as they boarded one of their Wakandan jets. “He survived his captivity in Afghanistan. He was injured there too.”

“Cold is a beast of a different stripe,” T’Challa replied.

Okoye nodded. “I have prepared for that.”

T’Challa had seen the supplies in the back of the jet as they boarded and focused on taking off and setting course for Siberia. It took far too long to get there, in his opinion, and they had to be careful once they crossed the Russian border, even with the jet’s stealth capability hiding them from easy detection. 

Once they arrived, T’Challa landed the jet where he had last time and he and Okoye hurried out and into the bunker. They easily found where Stark had been and T’Challa’s eyes narrowed as he took in the room. It showed obvious signs of having been ground zero for a fight and, given the state Rogers and Barnes had been in when they’d emerged, he didn’t think it was a fight that they’d ultimately lost.

There was no sign of Stark in the room but there were drag marks that lead down a nearby corridor. T’Challa and Okoye followed them and about halfway down the corridor, they saw a flickering yellow light coming from a doorway. They hurried towards the room but came to a halt when they saw what was inside.

Stark was there, the remnants of his suit, battered and broken, in pieces around him where he was clearly trying to make something. There was a small fire burning in what looked like Captain America’s shield and there was a metal arm lying on the ground next to the shield and its fire. Stark himself was alive and awake but his face was pale and drawn with pain and his chest had been tightly wrapped with some sort of makeshift bandages, though there was no blood that T’Challa could see. What was immediately obvious was the gun Stark was holding and pointing at them. His eyes were glittering with tension and determination and the gun was rock steady in his hand despite his injuries.

“King kitty,” he said tightly. “Come to finish what Rogers started?”

T’Challa’s shoulders tightened as he realised that his speculation was right and he heard Okoye’s quiet curse as she put the pieces together.

“No,” he said, keeping his hands where Stark could see them. “I have come to bring you home.”

Stark simply watched them, his eyes narrowing as he seemed to read them both like a book. It was a stark reminder – pun intended – that this was not a man who should be dismissed as weak or without the resources to survive and thrive. It was also a reminder that this man had once worn the moniker of the Merchant of Death and had taken his father’s company from a simple weapons manufacturer to an international, multibillion dollar, multifaceted, technological juggernaut. Then he nodded and lowered the gun, flicking the safety back on and setting it down on the ground.

“Going to need a hospital first,” he said, and it was startling to watch as he let his guard down a little and the dangerous man disappeared, leaving only weariness and pain on his face. He waved at the bandages wrapped around his chest. “These are the only things keeping my ribcage in one place.”

“Of course,” T’Challa said. “Okoye, please secure the Iron Man armour and return it to Stark Industries as soon as we touch down in Wakanda.”

He saw the subtle relaxation in Stark’s face and knew that had been the right thing to address first. Okoye indicated her agreement and began moving around, gathering the pieces of the armour. Only long experience in reading her face told him of her anger when she saw the damage and extrapolated as to how it could have been caused. T’Challa set that thought aside as he approached Stark.

“You can keep the shield and the arm if you like,” Stark said with a false casualness that made T’Challa wince. “I don’t need them. Someone else might.”

There was enough resignation under the casualness of those words for T’Challa to realise that Stark suspected he had helped Rogers and Barnes and would continue to do so because… that’s what people did. It made his thoughts race around his head even as he helped Stark stand and walk out to the jet.

“I believe Captain Rogers is a liar,” he said once he had Stark settled into a seat on the jet and had attached a few bits of tech to monitor his vitals. “And Barnes… is a conundrum. Neither deserve to be simply given back that which was taken.”

Stark shot him a look full of curiosity and surprise. Any response was dropped when he winced and coughed. That simple action made him moan and slump in the chair as a number of alerts went off. T’Challa swore under his breath and arranged the seat so it was leaning back as far as it could. 

“Okoye!” he yelled and when the woman came running in. “You know more about medical treatment than I do. Take over here and I’ll finish gathering everything.”

Okoye nodded as she took in what the monitors were saying. “Hurry, my King.”

T’Challa did just that, grateful for the strength of the Black Panther when it came to carrying the last pieces of the armour. He shook the fire out of the shield and left it to burn itself out on the concrete floor and grabbed the arm, running back to the jet with both of them. He discarded them on a seat and slid into the pilot’s seat. He had the jet up in the air and shooting back towards Wakanda in moments.

“Okoye? How is he?” he asked when he was able to engage the autopilot.

“Weak,” she replied. “I have sent a message ahead to have a medical team ready when we arrive. Ayo has reported that Rogers and Barnes have taken a jet and left. She has been tracking the jet and they appear to be heading for the Raft.”

T’Challa swore and turned back to the radio. He contacted Ayo and she confirmed that the jet was indeed heading for the Raft. He stared at the bulkhead for a moment then made a decision.

“Wait until they have landed on the Raft and left the jet then fly it back to Wakanda,” he ordered.

“Your Majesty?” Ayo said, sounding surprised.

“My obligation to Barnes… is not dependent on covering for his stupidity. I told him to remain,” he said firmly. “And I have _no_ obligation to Rogers.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.” Ayo sounded pleased and proud. “I shall see it done.”

“Ross…”

T’Challa turned around at the weak sound of Stark’s voice. The man was barely awake, his eyes mere slits as he looked at T’Challa. It amazed him that even now, after everything that happened, that Stark still cared about what happened to his former teammates. He knew he wouldn’t be so forbearing were he in Stark’s place

“Is a thorn in everyone’s side,” T’Challa said with a nod of agreement. “Do you have…?”

“Contingency,” Stark whispered. “Yes. Contact Pepper. Tell her… Ross file. Code alpha whiskey four three eight thunderbritches. Do what you want with it.”

“I will,” T’Challa said, placing a hand on Stark’s shoulder. “Now rest, Dr Stark, and let us take care of you.”

There was a look in Stark’s eyes that T’Challa didn’t much like, that said that maybe those words hadn’t ever been said much to the man, if at all. That would change. He would see to that and if that helped make up for his misjudgement of both Stark and Rogers, well, that was a good thing. And maybe it was time that he started showing that being a king was about more than indulging in his own wishes and desires.

**Author's Note:**

> I think this may be the last of my fics for the bingo unless I can come up with something for my last two prompts before the end and get the blackout. Unfortunately, they're not the easiest ones. We'll see what happens. I've got until the end of the month.


End file.
